Title & Chapter Number: Fate's Mirror 32/?
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website:
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: do not own these characters, they are the property of Tolkien, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this…
Warnings: This story is rated NC-17 and contains male slash pairings and explicit sexual content. If you find this offensive, or you are under-age, I strongly suggest you stop now.
Betas: Larian Elensar
Cast: Erestor, Glorfindel, Gildor, Thranduil
Timeline: SA
Spoilers: None
Summary: Set during the second half of the second age. Reincarnated Glorfindel returns to Lindon from the Halls of Mandos. The Battle of Dagorlad claims many lives.
Notes: I have yet to read the Unfinished Tales or History of ME, so I know there will be inaccuracies in this - so consider this AU. Thanks to Orchyd Constyne for Quenya and Sindarin translations, as well as a few borrowed names. I have no clue what happens during a bonding ceremony, so this is off the top of my head, I'm sure it's not correct.
June 3434, Second Age, Dagorlad
Dawn broke over Ered Lithui as the ranks of elves and men took their positions. Thranduil stood at the head of his column, as his father walked their ranks, making eye contact with each and every one of his soldiers. His glance lingered upon Thranduil, looking into the bottomless blue depths of his son's eyes. He smiled and nodded, prouder in that moment of Thranduil than he had ever been in all his long life. It had been a hard fought battle thus far, weeks of sporadic skirmishes, and still they had not been able to break through the Black Gates.
As the sound of the battle horn blew, and the great black gates opened, Oropher turned and faced the enemy, his sword held high as he bellowed a great war cry into the air. An answering cry came from Thranduil and the Silvan elves that stood with their King.
The sound of orc horns split the air and Glorfindel drew his sword, the bright Elvish steel ringing in the dead air. Gil-galad turned, his spear held high and shouted, "Tolo! Let us send these devils back into the pits from whence they came!"
A great answering cry swelled from his ranks, and elves and men surged forth onto the field of battle.
~*~*~*~
Amdír's and Oropher's ranks held back, their soldiers being the best archers in Middle Earth, and they fired volley after volley of green and white fletched arrows into the swarm of orcs, hill-trolls, and wargs. Thranduil's regiment covered the northern flank and he shouted out commands to his archers, directing when and where their arrows should fall. Oropher took the western flank, what was originally Thranduil's position, and directed his regiment with deadly efficiency. Amdír's archers fired volley after volley from the east, covering the eastern edge of the battlefield. Gil-galad's forces, led by Elrond and Gildor, were heavily armed and strode into the fray, doing battle with the orcs on foot. Elendil's armies, led by his sons Anárion and Isildur, fought side by side with the elves of the west, felling orcs and beasts in large numbers.
Dwarves from the Mountains of the west scaled the steep sides of the mountains, preparing an attack on the gates from above; they slew orc in great numbers, hewing them with their sharp axes.
Glorfindel and Erestor flanked Elrond as they slashed their way through the swarm of black death. Many of the orcs shrank in fear upon seeing Glorfindel, for Sauron's beasts feared all those who had once beheld the light of the Two Trees. Celeborn struck fear into their black hearts as well, as he danced and slashed his way through their ranks, his bright mail and silver hair gleaming in the fading light.
After many hours and countless number of wounded and fallen, the ranks of Sauron broke and began to flee back toward the Black Gates. Oropher watched in confusion as the Noldor and Men let them go once again, and he called to his men to give chase. Gil-galad called to them to stop, for as great as the number orcs had been on the battlefield, he knew many more waited behind the Morannon; the retreat was a trap.
Gildor ran up to the hillock where Thranduil stood, relieved to see his beloved still standing. He was weary, covered in blood, but the fear that had lay in his heart drove his weighted limbs onward. As he reached the top of the hill, he saw the horrified look on his lover's face and he turned back to the battlefield.
Oropher's regiment swarmed down the hillside with a great war cry, just as a large number of orc poured afresh from the black gates. Gildor stood beside his lover as the proud Sinda King and his ranks were turned back and driven westward toward the marshes. The Silvan elves were not armed as were the Noldor, and their casualties were heavy. Oropher fought valiantly, but was unable to turn back the tide that poured forth from the gates. They were driven into the marshes and overrun, as Elrond and Gil-galad tried in vein to rescue them from their fate.
Glorfindel looked back toward the black gate, the pursuit of Oropher's regiment had left it lightly guarded and vulnerable, and he hastily grabbed Elrond. The Elves of Imladris, along with great numbers of Gil-galad's troops and the Númenor of Elendil seized the advantage and attacked.
Thranduil watched in horror as his father was driven into the marshes with his troops. A sickening realization came over him and he cried out, "No! Adar!" He watched as his valiant father was impaled with the black spear of an orc, watched as his life's blood spurted from his body. In his mind's eye, he saw the light of his father's spirit leave his body as he fell to his knees, a once proud King brought low by the hateful steel of Mordor. He saw Oropher fall to the ground through his tears; the vision that had haunted him both in waking and sleeping moments finally come to pass. He howled in pain, his legs buckling from beneath him as Gildor caught him, the soldiers in his regiment gathered around their grieving prince as they whispered prayers to Mandos' for the fallen.
Gildor fought back his own tears as he held Thranduil's sobbing and shuddering form in his arms, and he suddenly understood what had come to pass. Somehow, Oropher had seen his son's death, and that was why he changed the position of Thranduil's regiment. Oropher had taken his son's place; he had given his life for Thranduil. His own regiment was charging in to Mordor, pouring through the Black Gates as they merged with the column led by Glorfindel. He shouted to Thranduil's archers to take up positions in the mountains, and provide support by covering the advancing column from the mountaintops.
As Gildor held his lover in his arms, he watched the elves and men advance into Mordor, their victory dearly paid for with the blood of Oropher and his kin. Their numbers were lessened, they were not as strong, but they had broken the Black Gate and were able to hold it.
~*~*~*~
Gildor held his lover in his arms that night, offering him what comfort he could for his grief. The tears had lessened, but occasionally they would still fall from Thranduil's eyes. Gildor stroked his lover's hair and whispered comforting words to him, his own heart breaking for his beautiful prince.
Elrond lay upon his back, weary and saddened by the events of that day. He had tended to the wounded and looked in upon Thranduil, but there was nothing to be done for the Sinda Prince, he had to be given time to grieve. Elves and men held Dagorlad and the Morannon, the tops of the mighty gates lined with Silvan archers and the towers held by Anaríon's men. At dawn they would press forward again, on to Barad-dûr, and probably come to battle with the Dark Lord himself. He closed his eyes and summoned the vision of Celebrían to his mind, wiping the way the horror of the day that had passed, the loss of so many of his kin.
Celeborn knelt beside his bedroll, offering a prayer to Mandos to speed the journey of those that died that day. He grieved for the loss of so many of his kin, and for Oropher. He had known the elf for many an age, and it saddened him to see his end come in such away. His thoughts turned to Thranduil, still so young and now a King. He asked the Valar to keep him safe and give him comfort in so dark an hour.
Glorfindel collapsed upon his bedroll, and sighed as Erestor fell to his back beside him. Their limbs were heavy, as were their hearts. Oropher had purchased a dear victory with his rash actions, and now they were encamped near the Black Gate itself. He had gone to see Thranduil; his friend had lain despondent in Gildor's arms. He had offered his sympathies, kissed him upon the head, and left the two in peace. He had a feeling that this experience would forever change the prince, and that saddened him.
Erestor rolled to his side and rested his head upon Glorfindel's shoulder. He whispered into his mate's ear, "Come, melethen, let us wash the stench of orc from our skin before we defile our bed."
Glorfindel nodded and answered, "Aye."
They rose wearily and made their way to the wash basins.
~*~*~*~
Morning came far too soon for many. The guard changed upon the Black Gates and in the watchtowers that flanked it. Dwarves now held the gate and a regiment of Isildur's men guarded the tower. The orcs and beasts that had not been slain in the rout had retreated to Barad-dûr. The plains of Isenmouthe were now occupied by the Last Alliance, and before them lay the Plateau of Gorgoroth, Orodruin, and the Dark Tower of Sauron.
Gildor sighed and reached out for Thranduil, finding that side of their makeshift bed empty. He looked up to find his lover standing beside the bed, closing the last clasps on his tunic. He sat up and stretched, looking at the Sinda with concern. "Thranduil?" he said softly. "What are you doing, melethen?"
Thranduil looked at his lover and answered, "There is a war to be fought, Gildor. I have troops to attend to. We should press the advantage while we may."
Gildor furrowed his brow and answered his lover, "No one expects you to see to your duties this day, melethen. You have just lost your father, I think all would understand if…"
Thranduil answered Gildor in an emotionless tone, "I am not the only one who lost kin, Gildor. Members of my regiment had brothers who fell with my father. Should they be expected to do their duty while their prince lingers behind?"
"King, melethen," Gildor answered. "You are no longer their prince, you are their King."
Thranduil swallowed as Gildor's words sunk in. He was King now; he was their leader. "All the more reason to show myself among them. They need to see me as strong, they will draw their strength from me now."
Gildor rose and stepped over their makeshift bed, wrapping his arms around Thranduil and pressing his lips to his lover's ear. "You are strong, melethen," he whispered. "But you cannot take care of them if you neglect yourself."
Thranduil raised his hands and placed them on Gildor's strong back. "I will not neglect myself, seron vell," he whispered. "And I have you to be sure that I do not."
Gildor chuckled and nodded. "Aye, this is true, meleth." He pulled back and smiled gently at his lover. "If you will wait for me, I will accompany you to meet with Gil-galad and Elrond."
"Hannon chen, Gildor," Thranduil answered. He smiled sadly as he watched his lover pull on his boots and tunic. He stepped over their bed and combed through Gildor's rich hair with his hands, separating it and braiding it behind his back as his lover buttoned his tunic. Gildor took his hand as they emerged from the tent and made their way to meet the leaders of the Alliance.
~*~*~*~
Thranduil had felt the eyes of both elves and men upon him as he and Gildor strode through the camp. His own soldiers bowed their heads as he passed and he gave them reassuring smiles as he made his way through the camp. He noted with some surprise that the camp was quiet, eerily so. It appeared that there were no preparations being made to launch another assault.
Gildor lifted the flap to the command tent and they entered to find Gil-galad sitting behind a makeshift desk with Elrond at his side. Elendil and his sons, Anárion and Isildur were there as well, as was Glorfindel and Erestor.
Glorfindel strode out from behind the desk and approached Thranduil, coming to a stop before him and covering his heart with his hand and bowing his head in respect. "My lord," he said softly, "Please accept my condolences on your loss."
Thranduil smiled and placed his hand upon the Elda's shoulder. "You need not bow to me, Glorfindel, I do not deserve such a gesture."
Erestor added from his place behind the desk, "But you do, my lord. You are King."
There it was again. King. The word burned in his ears like fired steel. He looked at the Noldo and said nothing. To reveal he was not comfortable in the role he had assumed through his father's death would not be wise. It was time to display strength, not youthful weakness. He returned his gaze to the Elda and spoke quietly, "Many thanks for your respect, Lord Glorfindel."
Glorfindel met his gaze and smiled warmly before returning to stand beside Erestor. Gil-galad rose from his chair and bowed his head, covering his heart with his hand, as Elrond, Amroth, Celeborn, and Elendil and his sons did the same. Thranduil returned the gesture and moved to sit upon the stool at the near end of the makeshift table.
"Where is Lord Amdír?" Thranduil questioned.
"He fell, just last eve," Elrond answered quietly. "He was over run as he and his regiment attempted to come to the aid of your father."
Thranduil lowered his eyes in a silent prayer to the fallen elf lord. He looked up at Amroth and answered quietly, "I am sorry to hear it. You have my eternal gratitude, my lord."
Amroth nodded and smiled sadly. "I am only sorry that they could not have at least saved your father and his kin."
Thranduil smiled in return and nodded. "Tell me, my lord," he said quietly to Gil-galad. "Are we not ready to prepare another assault?"
Gil-galad slowly shook his head. "No, Thranduil, we are not. Our warriors are exhausted, they need time to rest before launching an assault on the tower."
Thranduil nodded, he had taken note of how weary his own archers were as he had walked through the camp. "I see, seems like wise council, though my heart tells me we should press now while we have the advantage." He raised his hand as Elrond began to protest. "But I will abide by your strategy. You and your wise counselors have more experience with warfare than I." Looked into Gil-galad's eyes and continued, "Tell me then, my lord, what is our plan of attack then?"
Gil-galad smiled wryly, and heard the nearly silent sigh of relief that issued from Elrond. They were both concerned that Thranduil would be as divisive as his father had been. The High King sat forward and began explaining the strategy that he and the other lords had just finished discussing.
~*~*~*~
Tolo = Come
Melethen = my love
Seron vell = dear lover
Hannon chen = Thank you~*~*~*~
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